


Fey

by kathrikat



Category: Kakos Industries (Podcast), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abuse, Manipulation, There is a lot of violence and abuse please be safe, Violence, but it does go into detail, it's not too graphic, ive always headcanoned that fey was made by corin deeth iii, so here ya go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathrikat/pseuds/kathrikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about Fey's existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fey

_"14,576. 10,999. 10,998. 10,976."_

Her monotonous voice rang through the thick air. Night Vale's air, perhaps. It didn't matter to a girl who's sole purpose was to speak, to produce numbers. Never turning, never aching, never _feeling._

_"1,343. 8,808. 5,013. 3,118. 6,180."_

The more she sat in the confined box that had been her home for years, the more she had thought, and the more she knew. Once upon a time, she had remembered she liked to sing. That she loved the crisp air of winter.  


She remembered that a company had created her.  


_"Just numbers."_ He had sweetly purred to her. A voice that was almost _arousing_.  


_“All you’ve ever wanted in life, simply etched into numbers. Every book you’ve read, every story you’ve told or even had. You’ll never have to be anything, again. Only the numbers, Fey.”_  


It had sounded lovely. Her name on his tongue. A world, _her_ world, where only she existed. Where her and numbers collided. No more annoying music coming from the radio. No one to tell her what to do. No more shitty parents. No more friends that weren't really there for her. No more nightmares. Her fantasy all wrapped into one. Who wouldn't accept something that they've always dreamed of?

_"174. 206. 658. 333. 557."_

So when they gripped her arms so tightly that it burned and bruised and slammed her down onto the cold concrete, a large lump of regret and stupidity coated her belly, distended it. It snaked itself up and choked her. It drowned her.

And oh god, the blurriness.

She didn't know whatever kind of fucked up drug they had given her, but it scorched the back of her throat. It tasted like rotting meat mixed with jelly beans. It blurred her once beautiful vision, and every time he arrived to check on her, his face was distorted. It looked like evil incarnate, the most horrifying thing you could ever imagine, but she supposed that was a compliment for _Corin Deeth III._

She struggled against them, and in return they had cut off most of her hair. Covered it with straps and a helmet.

 _So many wires_.

The inside of her was no longer human, just something similar. A copy.

 _"There'll be no need to see the outside world."_ He had said, covering her eyes despite her choked back protests that started out as screams and ended with a scratchy rage. The end of each day, took her to a voice she could no longer recognize as her own. It had become something wrecked beyond healing, and so they took that away from her, too.

Her vocals were replaced with much simpler ones.

 _"Devoid of any life."_ He had said. _"Just how we like it."_ Her imminent fate gained up on her fast. She had wondered how long it had been since she had seen color. Since she had seen anything other than the blackness that had been tattooed to her eyelids. Since she had seen herself. She couldn't remember a day she'd felt this ugly. This _broken._

_"89. 69. 80. 91. 94."_

She writhed and they shoved wires and slime inside her, both draining any need for emotion from her. Needles that drew so much _blood_. A limp body who's head hung low. Like she was already dead. That step, however, came much later.

All that was left was to see the finished product.

A product.

That's what Fey had been reduced to.

The day or week, or month, he had removed that stenchful helmet, her eyes had gone blind. The image she saw in the mirror before her was distorted. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe that ugly beast with shallow swollen eyes and teeth that were yellowing, and hair that was just starting to grow again was really her. Was really _Fey_.

_"You've really made a beautiful machine, Fey."_

She supposed that one day she had felt and looked _beautiful_ , but the world had moved on from then. _She_ had moved on from then. Lights had booted up from the sides of her, her dead eyes seeing just past, just through you. Numbers were flashed across her one function mind, and one phrase that went along with it.  


DO EVIL BETTER.  
  
  
_"10. 7. 13. 2. 1."_  
  
  
And she did.


End file.
